Flicker
by RenaRoo
Summary: Dimmer, dimmer the candle flickers. It fights to stay alive and others can only watch. They hold their breaths so as to not blow on it for nothing is more tragic than an extinguished flame…
1. The Key

Alright, so most of you are rolling your eyes and saying "Another Turtlefreak121 story" to which I gladly say "Yes, indeed." I like to write. In any case, this one is actually more or less a dare I got on AOL over writing angst and Donatello centric. I gladly accepted the challenge and, considering my other current works are what people would like to paraphrase as "peculiar," I decided to go ahead and give this one the green light. So, without further ado, here is Flicker.

Little more ado…

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and the Foot © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter One: The Key

The pressure of his own skull seemed to keep his head spinning. He felt enclosed within himself, stuck within some indescribable bubble. He could not escape the funk of this entrapment and it made even his body stiff.

He rubbed the side of his head as he looked over it again.

Blue line, blue line, blue line – over and over again. He could not turn away, he could not face any other obstacle just yet. He had to concentrate on the lines, the directions until the image was taken from his hands.

"It was a simple overlooked error, Donatello," LeatherHead assured gently before offering his hand yet again. The highly intelligent crocodile simply smiled at his confused expression and pressed the offered object into his palm. "There is no reason to be ashamed of a simple mistake."

"Yeah, I suppose so," the turtle responded with a disdainful sigh, still eying the rolled up schematic before accepting the offered object in return. He looked at the key to the newly improved Sewer Slider, the one that was waiting to be driven home, to be tested out now that it was completely fixed.

The turtle glanced to the machine resting by the garage like entrance to his friend's lair. It was such a simple fix, too. Donatello should have been able to do it himself. He had developed the Slider from scratch, after all.

"I'm _not_ ashamed, by the way," Don came to correct his friend. "I'm just not sure how I forgot something so simple as calibrating the fuel tank."

At this LeatherHead laughed. "My friend, perhaps it was because the answer was so simple that you neglected it."

Don did not bother to dispute his fellow scientist. He knew full well that he would be incapable of translating his sense of loss to the gentle crocodile. On the other hand, Don had been feeling this unsettled state all day if not longer than that. He knew something, anything, was not right.

"What time is it anyway?" Don questioned as he finally received his much desired schematic as well. "I just remembered that I was supposed to pick up a pizza for everybody back home. Guess they had to wait longer than they expected."

"I do wish you had told me you were running short on time," LeatherHead murmured to himself before glancing down to his watch. His brow like ridges formed a thin crest and mouth upturned to a definite frown. "I suppose they went to bed without dinner at all."

"What?" Don asked in confusion before crossing to LeatherHead's side, looking at the time for himself. His eyes widened as he realized his error. "Eleven? Already?"

Sighing, LeatherHead nodded and maneuvered himself so that his young terrapin friend could better see the watch. He was looking over Donatello carefully as though he was beneath the crocodile's microscope.

It was a look that Don did not like but decisively chose to ignore. "I should get home, I guess I'll have an angry and hungry Mikey to look forward to if nothing else," he sighed as he tucked the schematic beneath his arm. "And perhaps an even angrier and _hungrier_ Raphael to look forward to!"

His dear friend, however, simply continued his scrutinizing gaze over Donatello. He seemed so intent on discovering something. He was so intent in fact that Don could no longer ignore the piercing gaze from him.

"Something wrong, LeatherHead?" he asked, mocking as much as it was in concern.

"Yes," the crocodile stated before grunting. "You."

"Me?" the surprised turtle countered. He folded his arms as he cocked his eye ridges.

"Yes, you have been acting very strange as of late, my friend," LeatherHead announced as he slowly walked around the turtle, gazing upon his body. "I am unsure of what it could be but for some time now you have been leading to many concerning matters with your work. Are you not getting enough sleep? Are you perhaps doing too many at once?"

"Is this about the calibrations?" Don sighed. "Look, LH, I'm embarrassed but they were just like you said: errors. And everyone can make errors every now and then, right? That's what science is all about! Having a concept that one corrects."

"You have never been incapable of correcting your own mistakes before, Donatello, not on this low of a magnitude at least." Sighing, LeatherHead looked back toward his own lab. His expression softened more as the concern overwhelmed his features. "And it is not simply the calibrations, Leonardo has told me that frequently in the lair you—"

Having heard enough, Donatello rolled his eyes and made his way toward the hovercraft sled. "Oh, so you've been talking to _Leo_," he scoffed. "Well, that explains almost everything about this conversation."

With that, the turtle slid into his driver's seat and laid his schematics aside, starting the engine with the new key. "You still have the spare, right?" Don questioned.

"Yes, of course," LeatherHead sighed before stepping toward the machine. "Do be careful, Donatello. I do not wish for you to grow ill while you are driving or—"

Groaning, Don leaned against the doorframe and smiled knowingly at his worrisome friend. "You have been talking to Leo too much, LeatherHead. I'm absolutely fine," he assured the crocodile. "You said it yourself, I'm probably just overlooking things. I'll be more careful from now on."

He raised an eye ridge. "Shall you be placing anymore aluminum foil in the microwave?"

The turtle's cheeks flushed a violent red. "He told you that?" he questioned before pressing the button to his right, starting the propulsion of the Sewer Slider and gearing him toward leaving. He smirked. "Eleven at night or not, Leo's _so_ going to get it! See you around, LeatherHead!"

"Farwell, Donatello," the large reptile sighed as the Slider took off through the opened gate.

* * *

The candle's small yet vibrant light swayed ever so gently as a rush of air entered the Lair. The aging master studied his flame and silently awaited the entrance of his long awaited son. He had sent Leonardo to bed not long beforehand, assuring the eldest that his wayward brother would be appropriately dealt with.

Now, however, he waited with much patience. It was not the master's style to go to his children so much as it was to allow his children to come to _him._

At the time Donatello was in his lab, his entry point, with no clear line of vision to warn him of his father's stirring nor the reverse to warn his father of Don's peculiar aura. And it was truly a peculiar one this evening.

That bizarre hole in his heart seemed incapable of filling and the more Don pondered on it the less he felt it had to do with his mishandling of his projects. No, rather, Don felt it was something within him missing entirely.

He had no idea what this mysterious missing essence could be, though. He was simply baffled.

With much disdain, Donatello parked the hovercraft in its corner and reluctantly removed the keys. It felt so disheartening, how missing a single piece of the large craft so effectively dismantled the whole. The feeling was all too familiar for the turtle.

Reluctantly, the scientist once more opened up the rolled up, crumpled diagram and scanned over its ever square. How was it possible that he made such a simple mistake and it not seem to register time after time again when he looked over the machine for himself?

Once more something so important appeared to be _missing_ from him, something that would have caught this scientific travesty long beforehand. Oh, how he wished he knew what it was.

"Alright, LeatherHead was right," he grumbled to himself before tucking the schematic back into the passenger seat. "I've been letting this get to me too much." Climbing out of the vehicle, he made his way toward the bookshelf behind his desk and smirked at the new key in his hand.

"I'm not ready to let those three trash this baby," he chuckled to himself. He looked to the shelves and begun his almost ritualistic counting: three shelves down, three books over. "No, I'm going to have to keep you hidden so no one takes you out for a 'test run.'"

He almost cringed at the very thought of his brothers' most unhelpful 'testing' of his experiments. He dreaded any time that one or more of the three sheepishly approached him with their hands behind their backs unsuccessfully concealing a sparking item.

"Here we go," he said gently to the key before removing the third book. "Right here behind Mr. George Ellis." He shook his head at the dull read. His brothers thought that any 'smart' literature would pique the nerd-turtle's interests. Unfortunately, _Before the Beginning_ did no such thing for Don.

He hummed to himself as he looked about the room. He furrowed his brow. What could he have been forgetting?

"I'm always forgetting something," Don mutters before shaking off the nagging and becoming subdued by his own tiredness.

He placed the key quietly toward the back of the empty space on the shelf before filling the space with the missing book. He smirked; amused by the fact that he had a secret ridden bookshelf in his laboratory.

Turning, the turtle was prepared for bed until he saw the warm glow of his father's candlelight.

"Oh, no," he moaned before turning off the lights within his lab. He had been preparing himself for a speech from Leo but Master Splinter was a different issue entirely. He had assumed too much, though, and now was stuck with his father without an exit strategy.

Not that he would have been able to use it or even have considered doing so in reality.

Sighing, the turtle made his way to the living room where his father patiently sat at his favorite chair, the candle resting in its stand on the end table. As soon as Don had taken his first entering step, Splinter's ears flickered toward him and the old rat looked halfway around to gaze on him.

"Ah, I see you have returned home for the night, my son," Splinter stated coldly. "I am glad."

The words cut deeply, causing Don to flinch. There had been rare situations in which Don was on the receiving end of his father's biting anger and they had all caused the turtle to become almost physically sick with worry. He hoped this would not be similar.

"My apologies, Master Splinter," the youthful turtle countered as he neared his father. "I lost track of time at LeatherHead's lab. I have good news, though! We fixed the Sewer Slider so—"

"Your brothers and I were very concerned, Donatello," Splinter interrupted, his eyes more directly toward his son with every word it seemed. "We attempted to call you but you had left your phone here."

Embarrassed, Don felt his cheeks flush yet again. Here was yet another thing that he had forgotten! "I did?" he questioned. "I'm so sorry, Master Splinter. I didn't mean to, I promise."

Releasing the sigh of relief bottled up beneath the hot air of anger in his chest, Splinter shook his head. He was so glad for his son's safety. "It is fine, my son," he assured Don before looking to him with a frown. "But all is not right I sense."

Feeling his aggravation rising once more, Don tilted his head to the side and sighed. "Have you been talking to Leo or LeatherHead?"

"I have been investigating within myself, Donatello," Splinter corrected, folding his hands over his lap. "I sense that not all is right with you, my son. I simply do not know how this is."

Rubbing his face, Don could no longer solve the itching within his body, the overwhelming irritation with everyone's concern. Regaining his composure, however, led to the turtle to lower his hands and smile at his father.

"Maybe I'm just working too much," he offered candidly. I guess I'm just stressed is all. It will pass."

His father did not appear at all convinced, simply more concerned. "Are you certain this is what has been bothering you?"

"Positive."

Studying Don once again, Splinter seemed determined to prove that Donatello was in more harm than he let on. For a moment or two, Don was concerned that the old rat had found something on his person to prove that this hypothesis was correct. Nothing happened, though.

Looking at Don, Splinter sighed and nodded. "Very well then, Donatello. Please rest well and overcome this presence of frustration. I shall see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Master," Don cited before bowing obligingly. "Good night."

"Good night, my son."

As Don made his way toward the stairs, the old master leaned forward and gently but ever so swiftly blew out the flame that had been battling to keep alive for so long. Flickering, the small light held tightly to its wick before silently extinguishing.

…

A/N: Indeed

Please Review!


	2. Lost

I'm very glad to see that so many of you are enjoying the concept of this story thus far! It truly does mean a lot to me—especially when you consider the shear fact that so many other stories are being updated at the same time.

So thank you very much for your reviews and support everyone! I hope that you all can stay with me a little longer on this ride ;)

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and the Foot © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Two: Lost

Leaning over the door frame, Raphael released a distinctive growl of irritation. He did not seem any more content with the situation then than he had been five minutes beforehand. While the others around him threw around the loose objects in the lair, he remained in the driver's seat of the improved Sewer Slider. He was waiting.

Around him Leonardo and Donatello searched desperately, one more so than the other, and it almost seemed like there was a quest for the Holy Grail being pursued in Don's laboratory.

Leo opened up the desk drawers for the third time. "Donny, did you put it in any of these?"

"I don't know!"

Shaking his head, the leader began to scoot aside the contents of the drawers, half-heartedly questing for the missing item. "Well, when's the last time you saw them? You were driving the Slider just last night."

"You're not listening to me!" Don almost viciously growled in return as he threw aside some cardboard boxes in the corner. He almost appeared to be in a panic. "I don't _know!"_

"Yes he does!" Raph growled sourly from the machine as he glared at Don irritably. "He just doesn't want me takin' his new and improved toy on a test run."

"I don't know where it is, Raph!"

"Bullshit!"

"Alright, Raph, that's enough!" Leo snapped as he slammed the desk drawers closed. "You could always get off your high horse and help us look for the keys if you cared all that much about it."

Don was beginning to pale as he scratched the left side of his scalp. A complete expression of loss overtook him and he seemed more and more desperate by the minute. It worried Leonardo to see him like this, so upset over something that was not, in the scheme of things, a big deal.

"Don, stop worrying about it," Leo stated shortly, giving Raph another warning look. "We could use some more helping hands—that goes for you, too, Michelangelo!" he called out over his shoulder toward the television station.

"Hey, I'm searching!" Mike snapped as he leaned back onto the couch. "Not on this channel. Not on this channel. Not on this channel."

"I don't know where it is, Leo! I really don't!"

"I know that, Don, it's alright. It's not a big deal," Leo sighed as he gave another look around the lab, searching for any place that his brother could have placed the mysterious disappearing keys and finding only his brothers: hostile and worrisome. "Did you go to any of your experiment tables when you came in last night?"

"No."

"You didn't?"

Donatello grew another sickly look to his face and shook his head slowly. His eyes began to scatter around the room nervously, wishing to lock upon anything other than his brothers. "No… I-I don't remember."

Leo stared at his brother intensely as a strange, foreign feeling came to his own stomach. He hadn't the slightest clue what was going on and yet it horrified him beyond belief. No, this was not going to end well by any notion of the word.

"You don't remember anything after you came in last night?" he attempted again.

"I don't remember coming _in_ last night."

The information struck Leonardo like a lightning bolt. His brother did not remember coming home? How was that even possible? There were times when one was tired and the trail _to_ their destination was lost simply out of habit, but how did Don simply forget _everything_ about the night before? That did not even seem logical, possible.

"Bull—"

"That is enough of that, Raphael," Master Splinter stated lowly as he stepped into the lab with Michelangelo, who he no doubt recruited from the couch potato alliance, by his side. "Your brother came home late, it is expected that a few memories are clouded with his tiredness."

Don did not seem so sure. "But, Master Splinter, I don't remember anything! I don't even remember leaving LeatherHead's lair!" he said, his voice becoming more and more excited with realization and fear. "I don't remember if I left with the keys—"

"You had to have the keys to use the sled, wouldn't ya, Don?" Mike asked as he scratched the side of his head. "I mean, that doesn't make any sense."

"None of this makes any sense!" Raph growled as he leaped onto the floor, nearing the group. Instinctually they all were coming around Don it seemed, cornering him for an answer. "Ya just don't want us to play with your damn machine, Don, admit it!"

"Raphael, I said that was enough!" Master Splinter ordered.

"No, Raph! That's not it at all!" Don exclaimed, fear overwhelming his eyes. I never would do something like that."

"It's not that important," Leonardo stated again as he placed a hand on Don's shoulder. "We'll just use a spare key."

"I don't want to use a spare key, I want to know where _my_ keys are!" Don growled, a strange spark lighting up his eyes. "I had to of had them last night."

"Did you guys check the Sewer Slider?" Mike asked, looking longingly back to the television remote, wanting to get this over with as soon and harmlessly as possible. "Maybe it fell between the seats."

"Tried it," Raph snorted, sending another irritated look to Don. "It almost makes me think the keys were hidden."

Splinter snapped his tail, not even looking to Raph for this warning as he took hold of Donatello's hand, moving to his other side as Leo did his best to comfort him. "You do not appear in good health at all today, my son. You should lie down."

"I don't want to lie down! I want to find my keys!" Don reasoned as he pulled off of both Leo and Splinter, grabbing his head. "UGH! I need some Aspirin!"

Leo glanced to Splinter and back to Don. "Don, you have a headache? What's going on? If you're sick you should be in bed, looking for the stupid keys isn't going to help you out any if you're in a bad condition."

"I'm fine! You all are _giving _me the headache!" Don snapped with a dangerous look given to each of his family before he rummaged through the drawers, finding his box of Aspirin and taking two dry, something that none there had seen him do before.

Raph snorted. "Imagine that. He can find _them_ but not the keys!"

Before the brother could say another word, a familiar walking stick met with his rear and sent Raph hoping forward a few steps in surprise. He paused and rubbed his burning back end before sparing a glance to one very unhappy father.

"I told you I had heard enough of this, Raphael," Splinter stated lowly.

"If you cleaned this place up some, Donny," Mike called from the Slider as he lifted up the cushions to the seats, looking for the key, "maybe you wouldn't lose things! Your lab's looking like an extension of my room!"

"Not even close, goofball," Leo rolled his eyes.

Raph finally found his comeback in the confounds of his mind and stared at his father before growling, pointing at Don. "Master Splinter, y'know Don doesn't forget things this important! And y'know he doesn't like me takin' his stuff on test drives! He has to be fakin' this!"

"I am not!"

"You are too—"

Without warning, Donatello's fists came crashing down on the desk as he stood up. The picture frames, papers, files, all sliding to the floor from the tremor. "F−!"

Everyone stared at the mild mannered brother as silence seemed to consume each of them. Not a one of them budged as they watched Don grab the sides of his head, as if to keep it screwed back onto his body. They all seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for Don to make the first move.

"I don't know where the keys are," he muttered lowly.

"We know, Don," Leo whispered in reply, still attempting to overcome the shear shock of what they just witnessed, what they just heard. He could not help but act like the others in staring at Don questioningly, wondering if he was even the mild mannered brother they knew or somehow an imposter.

"My son, you must rest," Splinter urged quietly as he stepped toward the desk. For the first time, the rodent seemed perhaps even _timid._ "You are not yourself just yet. You are worrying myself and your brothers."

Don shook his head, still staring at his balled up fists, not looking to a soul in the room. "I need… need to go."

"No, way," Michelangelo piped up as he slid out of the hovercraft. "Dude, you're totally sick. You gotta stay home for a little while."

In response, Don only shook his head. Tears made their way down his cheeks as he got up and made his way out of the lair. His entire body seemed to be trembling as he made his way through the Lair. "No, I'm going to LeatherHead's and getting the spare key."

Eyes shifted toward Raphael who stared stonily back to his brother before stepping forward.

"Donny, lemme go—"

Before he could finish, Splinter's arm intercepted him, stopping him in his tracks as they watched Don leave the premises. The master sighed and lowered his head at the event, a certain sadness collecting in his eyes.

"Donatello needs time alone," he said slowly, "and we shall allow him to have it less we wish to never allow him to overcome these demons of mind."

"Demons of mind, Master?" Raph growled before gesturing toward the exit Don just took. "Master Splinter, he's messed up right now. We can't let him go alone—"

"And whose fault is it that he wanted to leave anyway, Raph?" Leonardo snapped bitterly as he moved to their father's side. "He's going to get your stupid keys, so be happy about it. In the meantime, maybe being alone will help him think things out."

Mike frowned and shook his head. "I dunno what's going on with Donny, but I'm with Raph. He shouldn't be out on his own."

"He is walking a familiar path to a trusted friend," Splinter corrected them all as he turned and stared into each of their eyes. "Perhaps relief is all he needs. If he begins to be gone as long as he was yesterday then I shall allow you all to retrieve him but until that time the three of you will stay in here and clean the mess you have made in his laboratory."

The three bowed their heads quietly. "Yes, Master Splinter."

Studying them closely, Splinter decided on their sincerity before turning and making his way through the Lair toward his own room, needing the sanctity to think for himself on the matter. The three were left in the lab together as they regained their postures.

"I didn't know Donny knew the 'Big-Bad-Word,'" Mike whispered, unable to make the grin on his face disappear. "He musta heard it from Raph."

Raphael did not respond. Instead, he begun to toss the sprawled out cardboard boxes back into the corner they had been originally. He begun to block himself off again, keeping the others from seeing anything but his shell.

Leonardo still scowled. "Let's not bring it back up with Don," Leo stated lowly as he began to pick up the papers that had flown off the desk in Don's outburst. "I'm sure it's just stress." He picked up the family portrait and sighed as he saw that the glass had broken during the fall. "We'll have to keep an eye on him."

* * *

_So many lights and noises. How did he get here? Where was he going? Why doesn't he know where home is?_

_The crossing lane is blazing horns at people walking by and he almost joined them without a disguise. There's something wrong here. There's something wrong with him. _

_He turns the corners and there he stand, facing a street sign and is horrified. _

_It's so familiar but he can't read it._

* * *

They stared at one another. Not a television was on, not a one of them engaged in another activity. It had been two hours. Two hours without Don and it was maddening. If he was sharing time with LH it was fine. If he was not…

Splinter entered quietly, his face was troubled as he looked from face to face, counting only three sons present. It had not been long enough for them to search for their brother, only enough to wish so.

Almost everyone was startled as Leo's shell cell vibrated in his belt. Michelangelo even leaped out of his seat and onto Raph's only to be shoved back to his origin. They stared breathlessly as their leader answered the phone.

"Hello?" Leo questioned hopefully, a look of relief came to his face. "Don!"

At once, a cooling sensation seemed to meet all that was in the room as they stared, ready for Don to be on the other end, assuring them that he lost track of time again, that he was headed home and everything would be alright.

Instead, Leo's face dropped and he held to the phone with his other hand as well.

"I'm sorry… What was that?" he asked hesitantly. "Well, what do you see?"

Quietly, the others looked to each other, not sure what to make of these questions. It was not comforting, of that they were sure. Leonardo began to lose some of his façade as well as he looked forward, almost at a loss.

"That's not a very good description," Leo stated lowly. "Do you see stores or anything?"

Raph and Mike looked at each other. This was not making any sense!

"Okay, calm down," Leo cooed with a sigh. "We'll come to you. How? I'll use the trackers you built into these." If possible, the leader's eye ridge furrowed further as it continued. "Okay, you'll be fine. Just stay in the shadows and we'll track you."

With that, the blue masked turtle hung up, his mouth gapping at a loss. He was so confused.

"What happened?" Mike asked worriedly.

"Did Donny get chased by the Foot?" Raph growled as he leaped up and produced his Sai from his belt.

Leo shook his head quietly.

Splinter stepped forward, his own expression becoming more worried and confounded than Leonardo's. "What has happened to Donatello, my son? He sounded so panicked."

Slowly, the leader was able to open his mouth.

"He… he got lost."

…

A/N: First update of the new year!

Please Review!


	3. Blank

I have been snowed in at my house for long enough, man. It's driving me crazy! No, not really. I'm actually enjoying it other than the whole inches of ice on the road making it nigh impossible for teenagers to be allowed to drive out in this weather. Man, if only I was the Batman or sumtin'. Then no one would stop me from doing stuff.

It means so very much to me that you all are liking this story. Thank you for the reviews and lovely support!

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Three: Blank

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. They passed him. Were they from a movie?

Don's head ached and bent over, grasping the sides of his head. He willed it to stop its throbbing.

Sitting in the shadows, he waited. He felt like he had been waiting for such a very long time. How was it possible that he had been there for that long? Should he have moved? Should he have left? He did not know.

"I don't even know where I am," he muttered to himself as he looked about.

How was that even possible, though? He had maneuvered through this city for nearly all of his life with little to no issue. In fact, of his brothers he had always seemed the most aware of exact directions and coordinates.

As his head and vision seemed to clear, he was more concerned that he did not know how he got there.

"Should I call Leo?" he asked as he rubbed his head. He was thinking straight again to his great relief.

Don knew that calling his brothers for help had to be the only solution. Maybe they would know more about what was going on than he did.

Quietly, the turtle reached into his belt and produced his shell cell. As he opened it, however, he began to experience a bizarre sense of déjà vu. That had happened before, had it not? Did he already call his brothers?

Curiously, he clicked to look at his most recently called numbers. His stomach ran cold as he saw that he had in fact dialed Leonardo's number nearly fifteen minutes beforehand. The only question that remained was _why did he not remember?_

Growling with aggravation, Don clutched to the sides of his head once more and shook. "Pull yourself together, Don!" he pleaded. "What's the matter with you?"

Looking toward the street, he froze in horror. His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. They passed him. Were they from a movie?

It was at that moment that Don knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. He was not right in his head but he did not know what to make of it all.

"What's _wrong_ with me!?" he demanded fiercely as he covered his face with his hands.

His body curled up, as if to bury itself in the safety of his shell when the sound of a large vehicle pulling up became strikingly apparent. Even in his state he knew who this was and did not dare to look. He was too ashamed of his current state to face his brothers as his rescuers.

The vehicle slowed and Leo and Mike wasted little time in leaping out to rush to Don's sides. Raph remained hesitantly behind them. He watched from a distance as they neared Don and began to coax him out of his near fetal position.

"Donny, c'mon," Mike begged as he got down on his knees beside his brother. "It's okay, dude. Anybody can get lost, especially when they get sick."

"We don't know that I'm sick," Don muttered. "And I've never gotten lost like this before."

Kneeling, Leo sighed and reached over, feeling Don's forehead. "You don't feel sick but I bet that headache you were talking about earlier came back, didn't it?" He paused, giving Don to respond. When he did not, Leonardo continued. "It's not bad, don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry," he muttered miserably.

"For what, dude?" Mike smirked as he took one arm and Leo the other, hoisting Don off the ground.

"Calling you to pick me up," he continued, sniffing as he became more and more upset. "I don't know how I got lost and I got sc—"

"Don, you can call us any time," Leo reminded him, a worried look forming on his face. "You know that, right? That's what we're here for." His eyes shifted toward Raphael who stood by the car door, looking at them all with a hard expression. "It's not a big deal, right, Raph?"

Standing there, it took a few minutes for Raphael to come to his senses. He slowly nodded as he spared Don a direct glance, one Don missed because he was studying his own feet miserably. "Yeah, sure. No big deal, Don."

Pulling away from his brothers, Don shook his head, sniffing back the forming tears. "I-I just want to go home. _Please_."

The others looked to each other and nodded. Leo gently approached Don and laid his hand on his shoulder strongly.

"It's not a problem, Don," Leo assured him before gently leading him toward the back of the van. "Is your head still hurting or anything? Do you need an Aspirin or something?"

"No," Don muttered almost foggily. "I just want to go home, Leo."

As the two entered the van, Michelangelo and Raphael stared after them. As soon as Don was out of sight, even Mike grew that clueless, fearful look. He turned quickly to Raph, his own mouth gapping at the development.

"He's not acting like himself at all, Raph!" he whispered the best he could, his heart pounding.

Lowly, Raphael responded, "I noticed."

"What's going on?" the younger pressed as he glanced about worriedly. The family had handled evil sorcerers, ancient warlords, mad scientists, and rogue mutants but nothing had changed their family so quickly without explanation before.

"I don't know, Mike," Raph responded with a grunt. He remained in that stone like expression, not knowing how to feel. "How 'bout you get back there with Leo and try to calm Donny down? I'll worry about drivin'."

Mike looked over his brother. "You sure, Raph?"

"Yeah," he muttered as he neared the driver's door. "I don't know how to play 'therapist' or anything."

Once Raph was in the vehicle, Mike shook his head and made his way to the back entrance where Leo and Don sat. "I don't know how to play either," he huffed to himself.

Inside, Don sat at the seat for the trunk's desk with Leo beside him. The formerly lost brother had a strange, disbelieving expression which did not change when Mike neared him.

As soon as Michelangelo entered the vehicle, he grew his content, excited grin and rushed to Don's side, hugging him. It was not a fake sense of joy that he was using as a mask. Mike could not have been happier that they found their brother alive and well.

"You worried us, Donny," Mike sighed. "You look like shit but at least you're alright."

The purple clad turtle glared at him and Mike knew immediately that he was too upset to be given a synopsis of the bright side of things. The looks was so unlike his brother, though. It was as if something else had taken control of him, morphed the character of the Donny he knew.

"What is 'alright' about this?" he demanded angrily. "I don't remember anything that's happening anymore! I don't even remember calling you guys!" His head leaned back and he released a small noise from the back of his throat as though he was suppressing some sort of scream.

"I'm sorry, Donny," Mike responded, his joyous outlook quickly dissolving. "I mean, I was just happy because you were okay. I didn't mean that," his muttering dissolved as he lost track of what he could possibly say to his brother.

Leo sighed and rubbed his thumb on Don's shoulder. He sighed as Don did not so much as look up. "You don't recognize this area at all, Don?" Leo questioned as Mike got up and closed the back doors, letting Raph finally begin driving them home.

"No," Don miserably responded.

"Not even a little bit?" Mike questioned further, his own panic settling in as the situation became more and more real.

"I think I should," Don whispered before shaking his head. "I know I should somehow recognize this place, but I just don't know why. I see it all and I just draw… a blank or something. It's like I've never been through this part of town before."

Leonardo and Michelangelo looked to each other quietly. They were not even sure if there _was_ a proper response to this announcement.

Up front, Raphael kept driving, his own eyes set on the road despite a distinct look of hurt growing on his features.

There was something wrong with Don, something dreadfully wrong. Even Donatello could sense that not all was right with the world. They just did not know how or why – two essential explanations that they needed.

"Why?" Don questioned shakily as he looked around to each of his brothers. "Why is everyone acting like that's so bad? Have we been here before?"

Leo stared at Don, not sure how to explain the truth.

Mike looked at his brother but could not suppress the facts. "Donny, you _have_ to know where we are right now. You just do."

"Why?" Don demanded. "Where am I?"

"You're where our first home was," Leo said shortly. "It's the neighborhood we grew up in."

Silence overwhelmed the vehicle. Don stared at his brothers, waiting for them to tell him they were joking, that this was not that serious. He could not have possibly forgotten the very neighborhood he had grown up, that he and his brothers had roamed from rooftops or sewer tunnels. He knew that place like the back of his hand.

There was no way that Don would forget about it.

"No it's not," Don bit back. "Don't lie to me."

"We're not lying," Mike explained somberly. "It's… it's really where we grew up. I promise."

Don leaned back in his seat, glaring at them. It was once he realized that their expressions were not changing that Don knew it was not a joke. They were not lying.

"No," he moaned before burying his face into his hands again. "No, that's not possible. I can't forget my home."

They remained silent as Don consoled himself. Leo glancing to Mike as Mike did the same, hoping that Leonardo would take control of the conversation soon. He sighed and patted Don's shell remorsefully, attempting to calm him.

"Look, Don, it's probably something very simple," Leo explained genuinely. "Do you remember anything between leaving the Lair and arriving here? Taking a wrong turn? Anything forcing you to go to the surface?"

Donatello shook his head. "No, I don't remember anything like that," he muttered, his composure at last coming back. "Just my head hurting and," he paused and looked up, gazing past them as if looking at a scene. "Wait, I do remember having to go to the surface because the tunnel was collapsed."

"Alright, good," Leo nodded. "That should be the tunnel right in front of our old lair." The leader's eye ridge then furrowed. "But why were you going there."

There was a moment where Don remained quiet, his expression was more collected than earlier but a hint of sadness was once more growing on his face. He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Nothing at all?" Mike asked.

"It's like I blacked out," Don replied as he lowered his head. "What's the matter with me? It's like I'm staring into a fog all of the time. I know _of_ things, like how I _should_ know more about them, but I have no ideas beyond that."

The others remained quiet, hanging off of their brother's every explanation. It was Don, after all. He was the one that was supposed to know how and when anything was going on.

"It's like what I do know is disappearing," he continued as he looked at them. "And I don't know how or why."

As no one responded, Don realized that he was not alone in his confusion. He realized that, for once, his brothers had no idea how to help him. They did not even seem to know what was wrong with him. It made him sick to his stomach.

His lip quivering, Don lowered his head shook terribly.

"Don, don't be scared," Leo reasoned, drawing Don to look back up at him. "It's not a big deal. You are stressed, I've been telling you that for a few weeks now, haven't I?"

He nodded.

"We're going to go home and you're going to take a nap, watch a movie—you're not going to your lab, got it?"

He nodded again. "Yes." Still, his eyes shifted about before falling back on Leo. "How can you be so sure that it's only stress, though?"

"It just is, Don," Leo responded.

Raph drove without a single input, he did not know what to say nor was he sure he wanted to say anything. He knew one thing, though. As he drove on toward their home his mind was buzzing because of Leo's lie.

Don might have bought into Leo's excuse for now but there was no chance that this was "stress."

…

A/N: …

Please Review

"YAY!"


	4. Stirred

Some of you appear to be guessing my storyline thus far, though I won't say who's correct about what. It's exciting to get so much interaction, though. It really helps me get the right feeling for the story and I greatly appreciate it. I hope you all can tell how much it means.

So, once again, thank you all for the support! I cannot thank you enough

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Four: Stirred

The light, however faded and gentle it may have been in real life, penetrated Donatello's gaze much unlike anything he had experienced before.

Even beneath tightly screwed eyelids, Don's eyes were overwhelmed with a spectacular light, striking him straight to the soul. The event dazed him and forced the only instinctual reaction: to open his eyes in response.

Stirring brought the thoughts of what could cause the phenomenon. He immediately remembered Raphael's stories of hangovers and headaches. The notion seemed ridiculous to the cautious brother but then again _why couldn't he remember the night before?_

A certain amount of reasonable terror struck the turtle as he rose to a sitting position.

The second most impressing thought was that his brothers had somehow managed to spike his drink, his food, _something._ They had done as much before, more so to Leo than to Don. It was not implausible but he should have remembered it.

The scariest part was he did not.

Rubbing his head, though, Don felt a sweet relief come over him. He was able to remember a venture to the surface but it was blurred. The exact actions he made, the emotions he felt were all an unreadable, unapproachable blur.

This was a good thing, though. He knew that he did not feel the need to know what had happened or was to happen.

"My keys…"

The words emerged from his throat before the thought had ever crossed his mind. Truly, it was as if someone else had been in the room and brought the situation up to him. Even his voice seemed so urging that it was foreign, certainly not belonging to him.

Once the thought was brought up, however, Donatello could not ignore it. He found himself feeling just as stressed and horrified as he had been the day before only it seemed much further away. When had he lost those keys?

"Doesn't matter," he retorted at the thought. The turtle got up and walked in the very _dimly lit_ room, stumbling on a few objects in the blank darkness, eventually reaching the door. "Doesn't matter when I lost the keys because I'm going to find them now."

The first step into the hall was blinding, blazing. Don could hardly see the darkness behind his eyelids under the intense light.

At last, the phase left and the turtle was left blinking in the hall, standing dumbly. The door shut behind him, the moment was lost from memory yet again.

Donatello knew, just _knew_, that the keys were somewhere in the living room! The concept made so much sense as he thought it over. He had never checked the living room the day before even though it was common knowledge throughout the family that anything missing was most likely between the couch cushions.

It only made sense.

The cushions were off the couch and there were no keys in sight. Don shook his head.

"Where are the keys?" he growled at himself, shutting his eyes immediately at yet another white flash across his vision.

Ordinarily this would have seemed like an odd occurrence, one that was simply not right. Once the flash was over, though, the flash itself and its importance all but faded from his mind. Instead, he was wondering where his keys were if they were not between the cushions.

"You were in quest for something, my son?"

Spinning around, Don was shocked to see that his master was standing behind him, a worn expression on his face. He gripped to his walking stick tightly, his ears slightly back and his brows noticeably furrowed.

"I was just looking for my keys," Don explained as he straightened, his own face dropping upon seeing his father's expression. "Something the matter, Sensei?"

The gentle father sighed and shook his head. "I sincerely hope not, my son. However, I would like to speak with you privately in my quarters."

Looking over his father, Don could not help but sigh a slight laugh. "Sorry, Master, but that _does_ sound like trouble."

The elder rat shook his head with the slightest signs of a smile battling to form upon Splinter's face, failing to.

Sighing, the master made a turn and began toward the room, Donatello obliged and followed suit.

Within a blink he was on his knees, looking at the table before him. He blinked a few times, unsure if the indescribable flash had been at fault again or not. The thought passed as the gentle rat returned from the corner and sat the tea on the table before Don.

Had he missed something?

"You do not recall the night before then?"

Donatello stared at his father as if some foreign language had escaped his lips. He felt as though he had just walked in the midst of a conversation. In a sense he _had. _

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Do you not recall the night before?" Splinter asked quietly, a suspicious glare in his eyes.

Slowly, the turtle shook his head. The feeling in his stomach brought attention to itself through another icy touch. Don swallowed dryly and glanced at his father, then the table. His fingers fiddled in his lap.

"Not what you're talking about," Don replied carefully, pretending to be alert to the conversation at hand. He glanced up and saw immediately in his father's eyes that the strategy had failed. "I mean, last night was a little cloudy."

The alley formed.

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. They passed him. Were they from a movie?

Her head of hair turned, he almost could see her pale cheek.

"You remember nothing?"

Don looked to his father weakly, the visage of the couple gone. "No," he replied.

Immediately, his hand raised itself to his temples and he rubbed feverishly. The pain was splitting, whatever it was. He just wanted to crawl back into his bed and go to sleep. This was too painful, whatever it was.

"Take this my son," Splinter's voice coaxed after an immeasurable amount of time.

Whether Don was willing or not, a warm broth made its way down his throat. He looked to his father, so relieved at the warmth reaching his throbbing head and how it chased away the icy pain of his head.

"Thank you," Don muttered as the cup was taken away from his lips. He glanced at his father, the fear that was so easily masked usually riddled his every wrinkle. It scared Don. He could not focus on it or it would eat at him. "What was that? It really helped."

"A herbal remedy," the rat responded gently. He rested in his seat again, touching his chest as if to check his own heart. Don questioned whether or not the episode had been worth the scare. "Do you need this soothing more often, Donatello?"

The son glanced at him. "What do you mean, Master?"

"These headaches," Splinter continued, his eyes glancing over his son. "Will you require this herbal remedy to recover from the more often?" Don was not sure how to answer so the master continued. "If so I may very easily teach you how to make them."

Slowly, he nodded. "Yes, Master."

It certainly could not hurt…

* * *

Venturing toward the dojo, Leonardo questioned why he had not been there already. Master Splinter, as usual, had made the correct choice in calling off their practice. If nothing else Don could use the sleep. This did not explain why Leo had slept in, though.

On these days when there was not official practice, Leo worked on his private technique. Even if it had not been planned, Leo could not sleep past the usual designated practice time.

This day had been different, though. Leo simply did not wake up.

He supposed, as he walked toward the practice area, that he had been left absolutely exhausted from the night before. His body was weary from the physical exertion of worry and then the worry emotionally beat him.

He did not know what was going on with Don and it was eating at him. It ate at him the entire way home the night before and it was something he thought for sure would keep him awake.

He had been wrong, though. He slept as soon as he hit the bed. It was unlike anything he had felt before, to be so utterly tired over anything short of a small scale war with the Foot. But the war was less worrisome.

Leo knew how to handle fighting. He did not know what to make of Don's situation.

Entering the training area, Leo was immediately struck by the tell tale scent of ash and vanilla. The meditation candles were being burnt and it usually told him that he would be spending the private session under the supervision of Master Splinter.

He was surprised when he turned to see that rather than the master on the tatami mats he was staring at Raphael.

"Raph?" he asked as he looked at his brother.

The usually explosive brother was sitting on the mats, his position slouched and his knees tucked beneath him in a comfortable position, easily shifted. He was staring at Leo in the same brooding fashion he would have if Leo had come across him on one of his brooding trips to the surface.

He was not meditating and he was not appreciating the day to sleep in.

"You lookin' at summtin' or did ya want me to move?" Raphael responded sourly, glaring at Leo with a continued intensity. "I'll tell ya ta piss off either way."

"I'm sure you would," Leo stated shortly before turning more completely to his brother, folding his arms and regaining his composure. "Unfortunately I wasn't going to bring up either. I just want to know why you're not still asleep."

"Who are ya? My mom?"

"No, just your concerned brother."

They remained silent, leering at each other with the same undeniable stubbornness. Leonardo could see it slowly form in Raphael's eyes, however. The answer did not need to be vocal; it was revealed in the rings and red hue.

"You never went to sleep," Leo grunted. "Is that why you're burning the candles?"

"No, I'm a pyromaniac."

Leo stared at him for a moment, giving him time to recoil the statement before shaking his head. "I'm worried, too, Raph. Whatever's wrong with Don will reveal itself soon enough, though. We shouldn't risk our own health over it."

"Who said I was worried about Don?" he bit back immediately.

"What are you staying up about then?" Leo shot back, not letting his brother lose him in the collective brooding.

The red clad brother was quiet for a moment, thinking, before snorting. "Because I missed a night to go out with Casey," he responded at last. "We were gonna hang out like we used to, before he and April were married. Just like ol' times. Been plannin' it."

Leo rolled his eyes. "That's not true. You're not that shallow, and Casey would understand. It… Well, it was a bad night."

"It's the truth!"

"No it's not!" Leo growled, his shortness becoming ever more obvious. He shook his head. "Raph, I'm sick of this brooding. It's not helping Don or you or anyone else! Just admit that you're worried about him and get over it."

Getting up, rubbing his face, Raph seemed to be pulling himself back from his tiredness. He glared at Leo. "I'm not worried! Why should I be?"

Leo frowned as they began another stare off.

"I don't know," Leo finally replied. "But… I have a feeling we should be."

…

A/N: …

Please Review!


	5. Under Control

I apologize for the tardiness in this update. It was not meant to be mean to the readers or anything, I promise. I've actually had an eventful week and a half with the snow and what not covering the area here. Thanks to everyone who is sticking with me!

Thank you all for the reviews. I appreciate them a whole lot!

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Five: Under Control

They had all gathered near the entrance to the Lair. It was nearing time for a training run and they were all waiting for him.

The fear had spread after they had left him the night before. The brothers worried that their harmless action of having left Donatello behind had actually hindered his healing. They were all worried now that rather than relieving his stress they had actually compounded it.

At that moment, however, Don did not want their sympathy or concern. He did not even care for the training exercise that night.

"You don't have to wait on me," he sighed, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. "I don't think Master Splinter wanted me to go out anyway."

They remained quiet. He sighed as their glances moved from him to each other.

"Are you not feeling any better?" Leonardo questioned almost immediately after his gaze broke from Raph and Mike.

"Actually, I'm fine," Don responded with a shrug. "The herbs Master Splinter has been giving me are working fine. They're a lot stronger than Aspirin."

"Then why's he worried?" Raphael demanded.

That would be the very question Donatello wondered.

Why was Master Splinter so overly concerned over the matter? The headaches had subsided and with the relief of some of his projects, Don's stress had decreased dramatically. The only matter which seemed to concern him too much would be the way everyone was treating him.

They looked at him the same they would a lost child and it was something that pestered Don.

When Don had not responded to Raphael's question Michelangelo felt it was his turn to step in curiously. "So, if you're not going with us, Donny, where are you going?"

The real, underlying question was _why_, though. Don knew it and so did everyone else.

Just like everyone else, Don knew that the true answer was to get out. To get out of the Lair and away from the concerned questions and glances. As innocent as they were meant to be, they were hurtful and demeaning.

They caused Don to question his own sanity.

"I'm going to see April," he stated simply. "I haven't really been in my right mind to talk to her until today. I'm thinking she might have some new research publications, too. I feel like I'm falling behind on them."

The nerdy afterthought was enough to convince his brothers that he was in fine mental shape yet again. They smirked and nodded to him before heading off.

"We'll walk the first leg together then," Leo stated with a nod. "We were going to patrol in the area anyway, weren't we?"

There was a pause before Raph caught on, nodding his head to Leo's statement. Mike blinked and stared cluelessly before being shoved some by an irritated Raphael. That knocked the meaning into him and he laughed.

"Oh, right! I knew that. Okay, yeah," Mike laughed awkwardly. "We'll walk together, Don, alright?"

He sighed and nodded, knowing there was no other choice, and stepped forward as his brothers opened the exit door of the Lair. He watched the light peel itself in overwhelming beams as they cracked the door open.

Don would have brought the odd occurrence up to his brothers but it suddenly seemed as though they had disappeared into it and the light was all around him until he, too, disappeared into its brilliant path.

He looked about, feeling strangely naked without the eyes of his family on him yet he was relieved. They were no longer pestering him with their concern.

It was not long until he found himself in the alley and looked about at the bright day, the tapping of feet walking by on the sidewalk.

His eyes shifted, following the couple that walked by him. She was in a black dress and heels. He was in a brown overcoat and shiny dress shoes. They passed him. Were they from a movie?

Her head of hair turned, he almost could see her pale cheek.

Then she was gone, the alley was gone, swallowed up by the lights yet again. He scowled.

How was it, out of everyone who was staring at him, the only person he was genuinely interested in allowing to see him never completely turned around. Who was she? Why was she so intangible? He wished he could make sense of this situation.

Blinking through the beaming light, Donatello peered through the blinding layers until dark blots began to form over his vision once more. As the blurs expanded, the outlines of walls and shelves became apparent. They were all very familiar.

One blot lightened and formed the silhouette of a woman, highlighted by a pale white glow. His eyes widened and he wondered to himself if, perhaps, the woman from the images had at last formed, facing him at last.

The light at last faded, however, and he found himself facing not the mysterious woman but his dear friend.

"Donny? Don? Are you listening?"

He stared at April and wondered to himself what had just happened. He could have sworn that he had been in the sewers with his brothers, just leaving to go to her home. At that moment, though, he felt that not only had he missed the journey there but a significant portion of whatever they had been talking about.

Judging by the expression on April's face, the phenomon was apparently obvious to her and a rush of shame ran through his blood.

"Don, did… Did you blank out on me?" she asked, overtly concerned.

"No," he stated immediately before rubbing the side of his head. "I just got a headache is all. What did you just say?"

She stared at him and turned her head, examining him like some sort of specimen. "I said that it was a great opportunity for biogenetic theory."

"I agree," he responded immediately, his eyes narrowing at her growing, worried expression. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I say?" His face dropped slightly as he saw through her trap. "We weren't talking about that, were we?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not in the least, Don."

He felt the heat flush his face and the embarrassment only mounted as he stared at her. He came to April for some relief from the worries and concern of his family and friends but he was realizing quickly that he was losing that independence in April's eyes as well.

"I'm sorry, April, I was daydreaming," he muttered as he felt the bottom of his gaze milk over yet again, obstructing the focus he had on her face. He squinted. "Could we start the whole conversation over again?"

She stared back at him and shook her head. "Don, I'm sorry, I know I promised you I wouldn't get too overly concerned earlier," he blinked, trusting that she had mentioned in the lapse of time he seemingly forgot, "but this can't be overlooked. I'm worried, Don. Something is just not right."

"I was just daydreaming," Don pressed, watching as April became yet another silhouette in his sight. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"It's not just that, though, Don!" she responded quickly. "You've been acting strange since the moment you walked in here and it's almost like… Like you don't know what's going on anymore. You're like in some sort of trance. Believe it or not, this is the first time you've been acting like yourself the entire night."

"I haven't been here long enough for you to know that," Don defended, watching as the images blurred into a strikingly dark red.

"You've been here all night, Don," April said gently, reaching for his shoulder. "It's almost midnight. You-you don't remember, do you?"

He did not pull away from the approaching shadow's hand but as soon as it touched him, he felt the emotions break. In his mind it was as loud as the snap of a twig when the forest had long rested silent. Once it sounded, there was no resisting it.

Yanking his arm back, Don backed up. He scowled at the faceless apparition and shook his head.

_"Hands off, bitch!"_

The words slithered over his tongue and between his teeth before he knocked his shell into something, another silhouette, and felt more hands grab onto him. They were all touching him, pulling him away from the light resting just beneath his vision. He felt his heart racing as he pulled away from them all.

"Don!" the distinctly female voice gasped before others joined it in a senseless murmur.

_Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don_

He quickly grabbed the sides of his head as the murmurs shook the world around him. The darkness loomed in the corners of his eyes and no matter how he shook it would not disappear from his vision. He longed for that light to return.

"Stop it! Dammit! Stop it!" he snapped before bolting for a door, brimming with light all around it.

The shadows' hands attempted to stop him yet again but he viciously pulled away, lunged forward and broke into the alley beside the building. The light radiated from the very crevices of the walls and lured him forward, pulling him toward the light of the sidewalk.

He knew that the further he was from the shadows, the closer he pulled toward the light, the less likely it was to flicker out.

This flicker was what he feared most because the shadows of the unknown that surrounded him in these noted illusions could lead to anything. The light blinded him from their actions and, in turn, he was safe in the state of nothing.

He gazed around, swelling up within the basking light.

Here he smiled at the warmth, the clicking of heels against the sidewalk and ignored the calls.

_Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don_

He did not need to listen to them, he carried on through the light where he heard the heels clicking and saw a couple walk past. They were a charming couple, looked like they were from a movie. He followed to see where they could possibly be going.

As he left, the darkness faded away behind him, absorbed within the ominous light, as the colors drenched the world around him, painting the world literally red.

He followed the couple.

_Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don_

The calls disappeared into nothing and he felt so very relieved to be free from them yet again. He followed the couple and swelled in the heart of the light, safe from the flickering and fading memories of what had happened outside the light, in the shadows.

His eyes danced about as he traveled, looking at the couple before him. They were dressed so neatly and the weather was so seemly. He thought that perhaps they could fit right into a movie at the rate they were going.

Had he seen them before?

…

A/N: …

Please Review


	6. Snapping

Thank you all for the reviews. They all mean a lot to me and the feedback is always helpful in productivity. I appreciate it.

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Six: Snapping

There was no time to react and, in a sense, no way to either. The event had happened in a matter of moments and had left them all standing in the entrance dumbstruck. The only thing that Michelangelo could feel was the sting of the slap his shoulder received from his own brother.

It had been shocking enough to cause the ordinarily quick paced turtle to release his escaping brother.

In the moments after the fleeting Donatello's departure, though, there was little to no reaction from the others. Instead they remained silent. They had witnessed something happen, some subconscious snapping that they had never anticipated.

Staring after his brother, Mike suddenly felt sick, more sick than he had ever felt before. It was the indescribable pain of realization. They had all known, had never truly denied that something was terribly wrong. They had not been forced to face it yet, though. Now that they were, Mike only wished they had addressed it sooner.

"What the _hell_ just happened?"

It was a blurb from Raph, or sounded as though it was. In Mike's frame of mind, though, it was as simple as an interruption amidst horrific contemplation.

The interruption broke the silence and quick as a whip things began falling into motion again. Everything happened so fast after an eternity of being frozen that Mike felt himself being left behind the rolling motion.

Racing for the alley, Leonardo disappeared. He was chasing their brother in fear of losing him again; losing him for _good._ He was the leader and he was supposed to know what was going on and how to solve it.

There was no way of knowing what was going on, though, so Leonardo was left in a mad panic, rushing to solve it as he uncovered what it was.

"I don't know what just happened!" April finally exploded.

Mike looked at her quietly. For the longest time she had been standing frigid in front of them. She knew as much and as little as anyone else but had been there to witness the snapping from the very beginning. Her mind was visibly turning, searching desperately for the warning sign she should have caught; _must_ have caught.

The shoulder was stinging terribly and Mike was just as surprised as he was the moment the slap had happened. It was so savage and animalistic. The frothing turtle who had whipped past him had acted so monstrous that he was pulled from the present into a past encounter: a time when instead of a brother he faced a beast.

It was a beast that had attempted to eat him, with no memory of brothers or family. One whose humanity flickered out of his eyes.

That was the moment that Mike knew that if anyone was supposed to have caught on to what was happening it should have been him. It should have been Mike who had become so very acquainted with the brotherly beast.

"Where is he going?" Raphael demanded. He was looking at both of them. He looked at April because she had been there, she had witnessed the spiraling downward. He looked to Michelangelo because he had been in the way, was the one who failed to stop Don from escaping.

Truth was, though, neither were capable of answering.

"Dammit!" he snarled before racing out. He followed in Leo's footsteps as he always did once the true horror of events began to reveal themselves. Like the rest of them, Raph could only hope that Leonardo was on track to knowing how to deal with the events. It was a high expectation which could very well have led to much disappointment.

He was gone soon enough as well and that left Mike with April.

Her encounter with _the beast _had been similar enough. While Mike was worked in to become a brunch, though, she had been a midnight snack. It was an experience that no one could really associate with Donatello because he was such the opposite of a deranged monster.

In those past moments the distinction was becoming easier to lose.

"I don't know what happened," April admitted again. She crossed her arms over her stomach, as if holding in the contents from an approaching animal. "It was like, I don't know how to describe it! It was as if I was watching his body escape from his mind. It was like _Don_ left his eyes and there was something else there. Something _else_, Mike."

He stared at her, for once at loss for words.

He knew exactly what she meant.

* * *

"Did you see it?"

It was a question that pounded Raphael's mind. He felt it penetrate the stoney surface he had grown over the past weeks and waited for a few heartbeats more for a response. He was not wondering if Leo had seen it or not, though.

He needed to know if _he_ had really seen it.

"He's sick, there's something wrong," Leonardo responded quickly. He paused in the alley and looked about wildly. There was no trace of Donatello. "He's moving faster than usual. Dammit. Do you think he went to the roofs?"

Raphael paused. He could hear the pounding in his ears now, blocking all other thought. The image of Don leaving them, barreling _through _them, continued to replay itself. He moved so fast but that was not what was bothering the red masked turtle.

"Didn't you _see_ it, Leo?" he demanded.

He watched as Leonardo paused. Raphael knew he had to of seen it, though. The ferociousness in their little brother's eyes had been something that was unavoidable. It was too hauntingly apparent that a beast had taken over.

"I don't think it's, well, _that," _Leo said quickly.

He was determined to move them forward. Under his lead they scaled the building, following instinct to find their brother's body. Raph had to trust this would eventually lead them to their brother, to what was happening.

"How can you say that if you saw it?" Raph hissed. "It was like he was someone else."

"I didn't say they couldn't be related, I just don't think that it's _that,"_ the leader responded as they continued on. "This wasn't Don becoming something else it was just like… Don checked out. It wasn't exactly like what had happened before."

"You're saying Don's got something with his head?" Raph demanded.

"You're saying there's not?" Leo asked, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. His eyes narrowed slightly and he looked forward again. "He shouldn't have gotten this far away. Maybe he didn't go on the roofs."

"Nothing can be wrong with Donny's head, Leo," Raph stated defensively as they came to a halt, regrouping on the roof. "It's Donny, he's the brains of the family. We can't do much of nothing without him. He just _can't_ have something wrong with him like that."

"We'll figure out what it is when we find him," Leo stated lowly, glancing about, looking around for some clue to where Don could be. "I don't understand where he could have gone if he's not on the roof. _What are you thinking, Don?_ Could he have gone on the street?"

"Leo, if he's going to go all monster on us again," Raph brought up, "there's nothing we can do for him. Not with nothing but our weapons anyway. If he's Monster Don we'd need our stuff in the Lair and LeatherHead."

"And if he's _not_ that then we need to focus on finding our brother and helping him," Leonardo snapped before placing his hand over his mouth. "Where did Don go the last time he blanked on us like this? Wasn't it near the Old Lair?"

"Yeah, it was," Raphael stated before looking about. "Think he went back?"

"Only one way to find out," Leonardo responded lowly before turning toward the East. He glared at the blank skyline, aggravated with its equally hopeless looks, before rushing onward. "Come on, we'll head him off. We'll try to figure out just what the shell is going on after we catch up to him."

Nodding, Raphael followed again. It was not a perfect plan but it was one worth following. It was the only one available.

* * *

He felt the wetness on his skin. The darkness had taken over the skies once more and, returned to his right mind, he realized that the explanation rested in storm clouds. The water pelted his skin which had suddenly become chilled to numb state.

He felt so very tired. His eyes begged to be closed but he knew better than to sleep. He did not know where he was but he figured it was not safe, at least not yet.

Don swallowed and looked around. There were faint memories of him getting to where he was but they were not capable of being focused. He had no idea how they started or why this had all happened.

At the same time, he was too tired to care. Instead he closed his eyes and waited for his skin to melt off, pouring into the storm drain with the runoff. He was too tired and needed the relief of melting away without any worry.

He stood in the rain for a while longer before he heard his brothers come to him. Strangely, though, he felt no emotion toward the occurrence one way or the other. If they left him to melt or if they took him home Don would not care.

It was almost as if half of his mind had been shut down.

"Don, are you okay?" Leo questioned worriedly, approaching with what Don would have normally seen as an unusual amount of caution. His eyes searched up and down Don's body, as if there was some sort of disfiguration to be found.

Don nodded tiredly. He supposed he was fine.

"What are you doing, Don?" Raph asked. "You scared us to death."

Finding the strength to smile, Don looked to them tiredly. "Enjoying the rain."

They stared at him, perplexed. A part of Don's brain, struggling with the flicker of life it had left, was worried why they were looking that way. That single nerve knew that it had to have a reason behind it but he could not force himself to care.

"What rain?" Leo questioned.

"It ain't raining, Don," Raph continued.

He did not care anymore. He turned more toward them, swaying slightly from side to side. "Are you going to take me home?"

They were quiet before nodding. He was glad they were taking him home. The rain had stopped at the mention of its lack of existence and melting away, disappearing into the runoff, no longer was an option despite how much as he hated losing it.

...


	7. Paths Burned Before

I cannot tell you guys enough how much I appreciate the support for this story. Seriously, you all have amazed me and it means a WHOLE lot. So thanks!

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Seven: Paths Burned Before

As they walked, Michelangelo focused on his feet. He noticed for the first time that, as they walked, their feet did not really make much of an impression on the tunnel's ground. Considering the grime and dirt of the sewers, Mike assumed that their steps would have littered the undergrounds.

The more he thought about it the more it made sense, though. They had been trained throughout their lives to step so lightly that they would not make a sound or leave a sign of their appearance. By that point in their lives it had become instinct.

Mike frowned as he realized that there truly was not any trace of who they were or once had been in the world that they lived.

Looking up, he watched as Donatello's movements became more direct, controlled. His face was slowly becoming more alert but as it did, the wrinkles grew beneath his eyes and he seemed utterly lost. He did not remember that they were on the way home and that sickened Mike.

All the younger brother could see as he looked at Don was the bestiality flickering in his eyes as he rushed past him, untamed and unstoppable. It was monstrous and terrifying, an unwanted blast from the past.

It also reminded Mike that while Raph and Leo had gone out to find and help Don he had remained petrified in April's store. She was there, too, but it was not the same connotation of Mike not doing anything. He was Don's brother. He was supposed to be there for him, try to be understanding.

Ahead of Don was Leo and Raph leading the way home. Raphael drudged forward, his head lowered as though he was charging toward the Lair and never looking back. On the other hand, Leonardo turned to gaze over his shoulder every few moments to check on Don.

True to form, though, not a single one made an audible noise. The quiet between them was enough tension on its own.

Back down, Mike's gaze followed the strange lack of a trail once more and he questioned why they worked so hard to make sure that none of them would be remembered. He supposed that maybe, just maybe, he was avoiding the more obvious questions that troubled him or that maybe he had let his imagination run wild yet again.

"There's something wrong with me."

The utterance had been more than surprising. It broke through the quiet and reinforced a sinking, terrible feeling in Mike's every nerve. It reminded him that this was really happening and that the turtle in front of him was really Don.

Everyone stopped and looked at him, wondering how long it had been since their brother had asked something so coherently.

"What is it?" Don asked as Leonardo and Raphael turned to face him. "What's wrong with me?"

Mike swallowed as Don's tired eyes turned to him, begging for the reply he was not about to get from the other brothers. The youngest brother did not want to reply, it was the last thing he planned on doing, but he could not feel right about ignoring his brother's request either. He deserved to know at least something.

"I don't know what's wrong, Don," Mike said lowly, lying slightly. He did not know what was going on within his brother's head but he did have his assumptions. He could connect the dots and see the similarities between what happened earlier and the time that Don turned into the mutated monster. He just could not manage to say it.

Don looked downward. He was able to think clearly enough to know he was being lied to.

"He doesn't know because there's nothing wrong," Leonardo responded immediately, looking strangely toward Don. It was the look a mother would give to her child, one of reassurance. It was as if he was trying to convince Don that the world was still in working order and, judging by his reaction, it was not working.

"Can we _please _just make the rest of the way home?" Raph demanded.

"That sounds like a good idea," Mike seconded.

Leo looked around and nodded quietly. They were almost home after all and it had been a long, trying night. Don was not going to believe the white lies and, if nothing else, it looked like he could use a good night's sleep. They all could.

They trekked forward and Mike stared at his feet. He supposed for a moment that leaving no footprints could actually be to their advantage. It was like Raph, they did not have to look back and dwell on the past because they did not tread so hard on it.

That was when Mike noticed the slightest dents of a heel left behind every time Don stepped beside him.

Looking back, Mike frowned as he noticed that his brother had been leaving the slightest outline of a foot with every step he took since they took the sewers. It was as if the instinct of treading lightly and not repeating the past was gone completely. Instead Don was walking the exact same path he had taken before.

* * *

There was the tang of worry in his chest as there always was when his sons were not within his sights. Over the years he had become better at preoccupying himself, ignoring the instinct to find them and return them to his side, but the worry never truly left. As it shouldn't.

He was their father and he would scorn the day that he did not yearn for their safety.

Still, he could not shake the feeling that that day in particular was different. He was much more alert and far more anxious over the return of his sons. He could blame it on many trivial things but one in particular remained most pressing.

He did not know what was happening with Donatello and so long as this held true he would always be concerned and he would always be waiting near the Lair door. He watched the door closely, waiting for them to enter the door

Then it opened and he watched with great surprise as the four sons who entered his home carried an unwarranted level of morose. They were not happy and, because of this, Splinter was not happy. He frowned slightly, looking to all their weary faces, one in particular.

"Hello, my sons," he said gently. "I am so very glad you are home."

They looked up at him, silent and uncertain. It was as if they were filled so much with dread over what had happened that they did not know how to react to his comment. They nodded and entered their home as if it were a trap.

And then Donatello rubbed his eyes tiredly and shook his head something fierce. "Guys, I'm sorry. I," he paused, clearing his throat and returning his voice to the tone they had once known it to be, "I don't know what happened."

Not a one of them responded, opting to be silent for yet another reply. They avoided Splinter's look, sinking the feeling in the father's chest that not only had another odd instance occurred among the brothers but had perhaps been worse. It was the worst sort of feeling a parent could have.

He refused to be helpless in the situation, however, and instead hardened his gaze at all of them, not souring his features but affirming that the situation could and would be under control.

Splinter looked to Donatello and nodded his head ever so slightly. "I am sure you are simply tired, Donatello. Please go to bed and not worry about such things until the morning. Things shall always be better once you are awake."

Reluctantly, Don swallowed and turned. He was slow in his motions but not sickly. It was as though he was shaking off a long torpor and it was not yet spring. The further he was away the more the master focused on his entire being. Nothing appeared physically wrong.

It was as he feared. The problem was within his child's mind.

He turned silently toward his three remaining sons and waited expectantly. He liked to believe that his children could tell him openly about everything that happened earlier but he sensed that it was too unnerving. He knew it was a fact when Raphael stepped forward.

"Master, I'm really tired, too. I'm just going to crash. Leo and Mike can update you," he announced with the slightest tone seeking approval.

Studying him, the rat nodded in agreement and allowed Raph to leave. His students were at the age that they could make their own decisions, after all. He also did not feel comfortable as a parent in making his grown children do what they so blatantly did not want to participate in.

"Were the matters tonight truly so difficult?" Splinter asked Leonardo and Michelangelo once the red banded student was gone. "It has been a long time since I have felt such an atmosphere of dread around my family."

"It was not a good night master, no," Leonardo confirmed with a bow of his head.

"Don ran away from April and us and, well, was acting really strange," Mike dared to explain as he scowled at the memory. "He wasn't acting like himself at all, he was acting like... Like when that outbreak was happening."

The very mention of that dark time in his family's past caused Master Splinter to turn immediately toward his son and thin his gaze. He shook his head, hoping deep down that this was an unnecessary exaggeration. "That is a most terrible thing to say, Michelangelo," Splinter scolded lowly

"But it's the truth, Sensei," Mike insisted before lowering his head. "It was the first thing I thought of when I saw his eyes. It was bad. Really bad."

"He's still Don, though," Leonardo interrupted, sending a careful glance toward his brother. "Something's up, but there's no doubt that Don's still functioning as himself. He has strange episodes, I guess you could call them, but then he's back to Don. We can't jump to conclusions like that, Mike. We just can't."

"Leonardo, Michelangelo is as entitled to his viewpoint on the matter as you are to yours," Splinter said immediately before lowering his head and gently shaking it. "Please let us remember that this is your brother you are speaking of and that we cannot afford to overestimate or undermine whatever is happening."

"How do we know which one we're doing, though?" Mike questioned genuinely.

"We wait," the master responded simply before sighing. "From now on the three of you may continue your rooftop exercises but you shall leave Donatello here with me. If he is unsettled in mind or spirit he should remain home and that is final."

"Yes, Master," Leonardo answered with a dissatisfied frown set on his beak. He folded his arms and looked away, doing his best to disguise the discomfort he had with the decision.

Strangely enough, Michelangelo did not answer at all but rather nodded with a frightened look upon his face. He did not like the unexpected and yet he was relieved that his father was taking the threat seriously.

"Very good," Splinter stated before heading back toward Donatello's room. "Go to sleep, my sons. I will talk to you all in more detail about this night later. Now you have tired minds and need rest. I will watch over Donatello.

And with that he left them, entering into the room for his sickened son and worriedly glanced over his silently sleeping form. He was deeply asleep and, as it appeared, had dropped onto his bed before immediately going asleep. He had not even bothered to pull the covers out from beneath him.

Splinter sighed and hoped that his other children could sleep this well before grabbing a folded up blanket from the bed's end and laying it across his dear son's body.

The father did not want to think of the horrible accusations thrown at Donatello, that he drew any similarities to the monster he had once become, but in Splinter's mind he still transformed before his eyes.

Not into a monster, but a babe who curled around the master's waist.

He sat down, keeping the innocent image in the forefront of his mind, trying to forget the snapping jaws of the beast at least for another night.

…

A/N: I'm a little sick (and severely injured – long story) so forgive this chapter some.

Thanks! And Please Review


	8. Keeping His Grip

Sorry so much for the delays: to the say the least I've been pretty busy. Thank you all for your support and your patience!

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Eight: Keeping His Grip

It had been a long day. When his eyes fluttered open again to his great disdain he was not really surprised. He was even less surprised as he turned to his side and discovered that it was merely five in the morning, less than thirty minutes since the last time he had rolled over and tried to sleep.

Turning onto his shell, Leonardo folded his hands over his chest and stared at the ceiling above him.

He wished desperately that he had been more convincing to Don. God knew that Leo worried enough for all four the brothers, none of them should have to fill for him in that department. And no one, except maybe Don himself, could have been more worried about the position they were in.

"I don't know what's wrong," he reminded himself, almost scornfully.

It was more true than he wished it had been. Sometimes he and his brothers would have bits and pieces of a larger picture and claim to "not know" what was going on, but they would always find out in time that they had the clues. It was not until Don's situation did Leo honestly not know what was going on.

Or did he? He hoped not. He hoped that they were severely wrong, that it was nothing close to that horrible reality. He could not take the thought of Don being an uncontrollable monster again. He wanted to hold on tight to the kind, thoughtful Don they knew and not let him go again.

He did not want to lose a brother and confidant: someone level headed enough that he could trust with his own problems, even if they were never stated directly.

Don always knew what to say, what gadget to pull out of thin air, what kind of plan would work when all of Leo's strictly by-the-book strategies were useless. Leo needed to feel like Don was there to help him think again, to help the family think again.

To lose an asset, a brother, a friend… It was too horrible to comprehend. It made Leo's stomach turn over and squeeze inside of him. He felt like he was going to be physically ill.

He needed to sleep. He needed to stop thinking. It did not look like his mind would let him do either.

"I can't take this," he muttered to himself before finally pushing himself up to sit. He glanced over his shoulder to the alarm clock – five fifteen – and grabbed the blue mask that was tossed across it. Tying it around his head as usual, he rubbed his face and started out of his room.

Leaving the room was like relieving himself from a pressure cooker. His first true breath of fresh air came into his mouth and lungs as soon as he stepped into the halls and out of the claustrophobic area. He was glad that, at least while everyone else was quiet and sleeping, the rest of the Lair still felt uplifted.

For the first time since the incident with Don, Leo felt like he could think clearly. Moving on through the hall, he drowned thoughts of what could _probably _go wrong with what was right in the moment. The quiet, for one,

In the quiet he strangely enough did not feel alone. He felt like he could hear the things that only silence could appreciate, like the snores of his brothers or the breeze pelting the paper covering of his father's door.

What silence meant to Leonardo was that there was nothing to disrupt the peace.

Like all peace, though, Leonardo found that the silence did not last long and only a few steps from the kitchen, Leo found himself following the sounds of moving furniture. It caused him to feel slightly aggravated, not with whatever was going on in the laboratory so much as it was just a reminder that even silence could not erase the current threat to his family.

He leaned against the frame of the door and cocked his head to the side. He could not help but frown as he watched the distressed turtle before him shove aside every bit of furniture in the laboratory's office space, pressing it all to the center.

"It's a little early for redecorating, Don," Leo spoke up at last as his brother collapsed into his office chair and closed his eyes to rest. There were dozens of questions swimming around in Leonardo's head but none of them mattered at the moment. He just needed to be there for Don.

It was Don's turn to talk to Leo.

"Huh?" Donatello responded before raising his head up and looking to his brother. He blinked a few times and then sighed, as if he just received reassurance on who it was, and then laid back into his chair. A frown came across his beak and he shrugged. "I guess. What time is it?"

"Last I checked, just past five," Leo responded as he casually entered, staring as little as possible at the mound of office furniture and equipment which had been formed by Don's strange 'nesting' episode. "Maybe closer to five thirty by now."

"Oh, well, that's not too late," Don responded as he seemingly caught his second wind and brought himself to his feet. "I was expecting much worse."

For a moment, Leo merely stared at his brother before shaking his head. "No, Don, you don't understand. It's not five o'clock at night. It's five in the morning. It's extremely early. You should be in bed. I should be in bed."

After a minute or two of silence, Donatello turned to his brother and scowled. "If it's that early then why did you wake me up?"

"What?" Leonardo blurted out before he could think. He caught himself, though, and shook his head, continuously thinking about how he had to remain composed for Don if for nothing else. "Uh, well, you were looking for something. I think. You didn't tell me what, though."

There was another silent stare down between them and Leo could not help but think of how frightful Don's eyes were in that time. After a few seconds, however, Don merely smiled and nodded, accepting what Leo said as the prior events.

"Oh, right," Don said as he looked about his laboratory and crossed his arms. Leonardo watched uncomfortably as a remote sadness slowly grew over Don's frame as he glanced about. "I was looking for my key. I know it's here somewhere I just…"

"We'll find the keys someday, Don, when we're least expecting it," Leo said with a shift of his hand to his brother's shoulder, earning a confused look from Don. "If you keep stressing over it, though, we'll never find them. I bet you'd remember if you tried to think about something else for a while, though."

Shaking his head, Don attempted to literally walk away from this idea, but Leo followed. He needed to make sure Don did not hurt himself in this state and he also needed to make sure that if anything of importance happened he was there to witness it.

"I want to find my key first," Don replied at last, bringing a finger up to his mouth and chewing on it.

"Why?"

Pausing for a moment, Don looked to his hands, bring his finger out of the grip of his teeth. He closed his eyes and then shook his head again. "If I could find my key I'll know that I'm okay. That the problem's not me. Stress wouldn't make me lose the key. If I find the key I'll know whatever's wrong with me isn't permanent." He gritted his teeth and looked to Leo. "Aren't I right?"

"I think, Don," Leo sighed before looking severely at his brother, "that if you want to get better then you need to stop obsessing over something that's forgotten. So you forgot it? Everyone has. Sometimes I still forget April and Casey's birthdays and it's on our calender in the kitchen. It's not a big deal but you're working up your every nerve and impulse over it for some reason."

Almost immediately Leonardo could tell that this was not the kind of pep talk Don wanted to hear and he had to grab his brother's arm to keep him from wondering off. Leo inwardly kicked himself, he was not being a very good helping hand.

"When it's not five in the morning I will help you find your keys, okay?" Leo asked. He waited for a second but continued after getting no response from Don. "Right now, though, think you can either sleep or work on another project. Preferably one that doesn't fly through the Lair at the speed of light."

At the mention of projects, Don pulled himself from Leo's hand and drug himself to his chair. He grunted as though he had been suffering from aches and pains for years. He slid into the chair.

"I don't remember what to do in any of those projects," he admitted lowly. "I keep looking at the blueprints and they don't even make sense. I tried to follow them one time, I really did, but all that I ended up doing was making a circle out of circuit breakers. I couldn't even follow _directions."_

"I'm sure you're just in a funk, Don," Leo replied sincerely. "You've not been feeling in the right mood to do this stuff anyway. Maybe you shouldn't force it."

Sourly, Don looked to his brother. "I don't think that's the problem," he said lowly before looking down to his lap, his fingers began tapping on his knees nervously. "I don't know what to make of all this. I've never felt like this before."

At least Leo could be glad of that. He knew that his brother would tell him if he felt as though he was going through that horrific change again. This was bad enough as it was, though. He walked over to his brother and sat on the desk beside his chair.

"Are you scared?"

"No, I'm not," Don said quietly before shaking his head. "I don't think so, anyway. I just want to know what's wrong with me. If I could find that out that'll be half the battle, right?"

Staring at his brother, Leo could not help but upturn the corners of his mouth. "It can be. But we can make arrangements to try to find out what's wrong. I'm sure LeatherHead could help, the two of you have made enough medical gear—"

"No," Don stopped him short and looked his brother in the eyes. "Just let me find this key. If I can find this key it'll all go away and I can make sense of everything I've been forgetting and seeing. I just want to try to do this for myself."

Leo's glare hardened. "Seeing? You've been _seeing_ things, Don? Like what? What are you seeing?"

Swallowing, Don shook his head and got up, working his way through the objects gathered in the center of the office again. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it. If they were that big of a deal I'd have told you about them already, Leo. I'm more concerned about the forgetting useful information part at the moment. Just… Just let me look for this key. I need to find the key."

Sitting, Leo tilted his head to the side and watched his brother for a few more moments. He watched as Don gathered his things and looked through them all individually yet, strangely enough, sloppily. It was stiff, forced movements as if he was fighting within his own body.

That was when Leo made his decision, one he knew he probably should have made the night before.

They were going to figure out what was wrong with Don and then what they should do to help him. They were also going to do it without involving Don as much as possible. Leo was going to make things back to the way they were when he was the only one who had to worry at night.

…

A/N: Thanks for staying with this story, guys. I really appreciate it!

Please Review.


	9. Silence

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Nine: Silence

"It always starts the same, doesn't it?" Donatello sighed as his visitor frowned and nodded, sipping tea. "I'm so sorry I can't remember your name right now, but, you see, I lost this key. And everything's just been falling apart since I lost the key. It's kind of tragic, really. Something that's so small and useless is gone and, suddenly, it means more to you than anything else in the world."

The guest looked to him quietly.

"I guess that's what happens when you take stuff for granted," Donatello sighed as he tapped his chin and allowed his eyes to wander. Truly, he was off his rocker.

He did not even know what this room _was._

"I'm so scatter-brained lately, forgive me. Strange how it works. I become so obsessed with finding that key and now everything else is jumping around in my head so fast it's making me throb all over. I feel like something's trying to get _out_ of my brain. Reminds me of a someone I knew once. This robot." Donatello made a soured face. "I ... I don't remember his name either."

Looking over to the guest, Donatello noticed that the long snout of his new friend was wrinkled with some disgust; he was curling its claws around a cup. It looked like a dinosaur or something preposterous thing like that.

Folding his arms, Don sighed and shook his head. He could _not_ remember this creature's name for the life of him. And the creature was not much of a talker so odds were it was not about to give him any clues.

"I forget, what were we talking about? Ah. Oh, yes. _That_ old thing," Don sighed as he poured the creature more tea from the pot. "It always starts the same: I've already told you that."

Frowning, Don stared deeply into his friend, but not at him. Through him, at the gray atmosphere which was suddenly swirling behind him, consuming the brick wall and dissolving it into the alley. The clicking of heels echoed through the alley and a gentle hum of a woman's laughter, so sweet and tender, broke through, trumping all other noise.

A couple walked before them and Don felt his face fall somewhat in sadness. A couple walked by the alley and the weather was just fancy. They looked so pretty they could have strolled right off a movie set. He was in a nice jacket, she in fur.

They were just _so_ fancy and _so _happy.

And then they were gone. In a flash their night was over and Don knew them both to be dead. He sighed and looked down at his tea, waiting for the vision to leave him be.

It was never gone for long, though. He knew that.

The moment it was gone, however, he missed it. He missed being the observer, the audience. He was tired of being the center of attention in this world and as he looked up and saw that hideous monster's face again, he knew it was _its_ fault.

Don squeezed to his own cup of tea.

"I'm sick of playing the Mime Game," he snarled at last, leering at the monster who only sadly looked back. "Tell me who you are! Tell me who you are before you drive me _crazy!"_

A strange look came over the face of the long nosed creature and it sighed. Shaking its head, it gave not a word to Donatello. It could answer no questions and Don was more than aware of this fact.

More than upset by this point, Donatello stood up in a rage and threw his cup at the fiend, shattering the mirror.

"I'm sick of you!" he howled.

* * *

At dinner they were all quiet.

It was funny how normal it was to sit there together.

For many years, animal behaviorists had argued that animals and people shared the intense need for scheduling. In the wild, a domain of a predator was marked off and walked on with startling tempo. When a partner animal was lost, the grieving period was marked by how many weeks it took for the remaining partner to return to the once coupled routine.

If it ever _did_ return to that routine.

Mutants, as it turned out, were no different from either animals or people.

Without ever carving a name into or verbally claiming a chair, everyone had their seats in a clockwise fashion. Master. Leonardo. Donatello. Michelangelo. Raphael.

It was something normal, something they could rely on. It had been that way for years, over a decade even.

They could sit there in complete silence and everything would be alright so long as the seats were aligned.

On that night, however, there was not a word spoken. An uneasiness was in the air and things were just _wrong. _But no one brought it up.

No one asked Donatello why. Why did he break the mirror in the bathroom after he locked himself in there?

And yet, by not asking that question, it was the only thing they were all thinking.

Why did he have his hands so cut and scratched if it was the throwing of the cup that in fact broke the mirror? Why was he talking while he was in there?

No one asked anything, though. They were all either too afraid of the answer or already knew it.

Instead they sat there in silence.

Master. Donatello. Leonardo. Michelangelo. Raphael.

* * *

What is a brother supposed to do for his brother?

At one time, Raphael had an answer that defied all other answers.

What is a brother supposed to do for his brother?  
_Anything._

Raphael would have been the first to tell someone that he was not the most emotional of people. He was not like Mike where he could risk emotions hanging off of his sleeves like luggage because while he might have been a bit of a wild card, Raphael was still a pillar.

There were countless battles where he alone seemed to have absolute composure. He did not worry about creating escape routes and strategies. It never crossed his mind that he could lose. He was like a rhino let loose in a china store: unstoppable.

When an enemy seemingly had the upper hand, they could guess again. If one of Raphael's brothers were on their knees, by the time they got back up, he would have taken out all of their attackers.

As they grew older it was more and more defined. They did not have to think about it, they could just rely on it.

So Raph did not think about it. He rarely gave himself time to think about it.

This could possibly have been seen as a critical lapse in judgement, however. One could not steamroll over _every _problem and situation, making it disappear into the rubble and dirt of the earth. Sometimes situations just did not go away.

In retaliation, Raphael had to deal with himself in other ways, allow his brothers to take care of the problem.

When Donatello had succumb to what is now known as the Outbreak Virus, Raphael could not steamroll over the problem without losing one of his brothers. Instead he had to let LeatherHead and his other brothers formulate plans.

He hated plans.

By the time the conclusion was drawn from their formulas and experiments, Raphael had already developed a sharp sai that could slice Agent Bishop a thousand different ways. It worked. They rescued Don. While Raph did not get to skewer his favorite operative, he did get to cut through some nasty Foot soldiers. That almost made it worth it.

Almost.

The problem came back, though. Raphael could see it so clearly in his brother's half-dead eyes. Why could no one else see it?

It was nearly six months later but the monster hidden within Donatello's DNA had resurfaced. It was laying in wait, to take away their last hopes for a happy lifetime growing old and uglier together. They lost.

He looked around the table as everyone silently ate their food, observing one another for signs of a pulse or breath from time to time. It was like when they were children and they huddled in the corner of their bed, waiting for the monster to disappear if they did not say anything.

Raphael could not do that, though. Not anymore.

He had ignored the elephant in the room long enough.

Fist closed, he sat up and glared at them all. They looked back, save for Donatello who was mesmerized by his teacup.

"I'm goin' to my room," he announced before abruptly doing so. He called back to them, "Do yourself a favor: if ya need me, don't bother."

He shut his door and glared at his mirror. He did not even think of breaking anything. There had been enough things breaking lately.

Instead, he turned off the lights and stood in the utter darkness of his room, the only trembling light being released from the cracks between the frame and the door. Raph could deal with, those, though. He stuffed his blanket into them.

When he could see nothing, he sat down on the floor, not even daring to try to make it to his hammock to sit.

It was completely silent. Almost as silent as it had been at dinner.

He laid down and closed his eyes, ignoring the strange flashes of light that seemed to go off behind his eyelids as he did so.

Raphael ignored as these small lights flickered out into the much sought for darkness and cold and scowled.

What is a brother supposed to do for his brother?

He no longer knew.

* * *

Overreactions were to be expected when a family did not know how to overcome adversity together. This went ten-fold for a family whose characters were so vibrant and strong.

Some people just deal differently with things.

Leonardo wanted a solution.

In the mind of a strategist, the world comes to order and is alright so long as a goal is achievable. If a solution to a problem is found, there is no need for being overly concerned with the actual problem.

Well, in a perfect world in any case.

Unlike the others, Leonardo did not think that the situation was repetitious in nature. He did not write out the possibility of events in their past compounding into newer and far more challenging problems, but he simply refused to believe that it would be the _exact_ problem they had before.

Donatello was not becoming a monster.

Leo just had to prove it.

He looked to his master and to his remaining brethren before settling his sights on Donatello. The purple banded turtle did not look back, although his timidness at tonight's supper spoke volumes for him.

Poor Donatello was ashamed, confused, guilted, and genuinely disheartened by his own, unexplainable behavior; most of which he could not remember on his own.

A cloud seemed fixated over his head, an image which reminded Leonardo of his earlier hallucinations about rain.

"I'm going to be forefront, Don," Leonardo sighed. "I think you're sick. And I don't think you're taking good enough care of yourself: spending all hours of the night searching for things without need." He paused as he finally caught Donatello's attention and brought his gaze up to him. "I want you to go to bed earlier than usual tonight, sleep, and tomorrow we're going to go get your keys."

It was as if a bomb went off. The rest of the family was utterly floored that Leonardo even brought up the keys: those dreaded things that started this whole thing.

But Donatello in particularly looked as thought he had been shot when such a claim had finally been made. He narrowed his eyes, a frightful flicker going off in them, and looked at his eldest brother carefully, absolutely no trust in them.

"You have my key?" he asked almost angrily. "You had it this whole time?"

"No," Leonardo responded confidently, relieving the tension almost immediately. "But you and I are going to go to LeatherHead's finally and look there. It's the only place we haven't looked yet."

Donatello's look soured even more. "Why on earth would they be there?"

Leo sighed and crossed his arms. "Just a hunch."

...

.

I am currently revising the master layout for this story. Hopefully it will condense and not last the full 27 chapters I originally intended. We can only hope!


	10. Good Day

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and LeatherHead © Mirage Studios  
story © Turtlefreak121

**Flicker**  
Chapter Ten: Good Day

Michelangelo had never defined what a _good day_ was before the crisis with his brother began.

It was not really a term which any one person could define or any two people could agree on. Mike could predict good days, he would always slyly point one in the direction of Halloween, Christmas, birthdays, and National Free Comic Book Day. The classics, the ones that any wide-eyed, bushy tailed child could look forward to with such overcoming gusto.

He was by no means the only one in their family to still contain that hopeful, innocent child within: they all did. The biggest difference between Michelangelo and his brothers, was that Mike allowed it to be known, to be felt in his every action.

In the mind of a child the dark is a scary place where the evils of the world hide. They do not emerge into the light, they don't sit at your table and live beside you. It is all black and white.

All one has to do is be cautious about when the lights flicker.

Such delicate matters, like children, are hard to contain, though. Like a force of nature, the dark will always be there and be a most unruly and uncontrollable force once it is fully excited.

A good day, if Mike could have placed such a thing into comprehensible terms, was a day when everyone was clear from the danger of the darkness. Not a single doubt could exist in a single mind that the lights were about to go out.

Security, that was the ticket.

It had been a rather dark place in the Lair lately, but Mike could sense that it was the dawn of a new day. Nothing in his mind could have made him doubt that not only were Leonardo and Donatello going to visit LeatherHead, but LeatherHead would have a quick and simple cure for Donatello's mysterious ailment.

What could ever possibly cause Mike to doubt that they would find the solution so easily? After all, Raphael might have seethed the term "Turtle Luck" into existence out of spite for their situations, but Mike knew better.

Turtles lived long. They were lucky. Turtle Luck just meant that they would live to see a bad situation pass over like a bad hangover.

So, despite the fright he had felt only a few nights before, Mike did not blink twice as he sat down beside his brother for breakfast.

Donatello absently stared at him for a few moments as Mike eagerly grabbed the cereal box on Don's side of the table and took it for his own. Mike smiled at his brother pleasantly and poured his cereal into the bowl which Leonardo had set out earlier.

"Good mornin', Bro!" Mike beamed as he put down the box and then grabbed the milk carton.

Usually Donatello would sip coffee and give him a gentle nod before ignore in the barbaric posture Michelangelo would hold over his food. On this good day, however, Don sleepily blinked and then smiled.

"Morning to you, too."

"Aw, c'mon, Don," Mike responded with a smirk. "It's more than just _morning. _Today is a _good_ morning. A _GREAT _morning!"

Donatello's expression fell and he began to look both confused and strangely concerned with Mike's enthusiasm. He looked around quietly before looking back to the orange clad brother. He bit his lip. "Why?"

"Because I feel like it's a good one," Mike responded before shoving a spoon into his mouth and grinning. "I bet if ya try real hard, Don, you'll feel that way, too!"

At that statement, Don blinked. He seemed to lean back and deeply ponder on his brother's declaration before giving a small laugh and nodding. "Yeah. I guess it is a good day. Nothing has happened yet to make it a bad one," he responded.

"Exactly," Mike responded just as Leonardo entered the kitchen.

"Okay, I think we're ready," Leo responded. "I just want to grab a quick bite. I almost forgot that I set out a bowl." The leader paused and looked from Donatello to Michelangelo. He smiled and nodded to his brother. "Hey, Mike. Don and I are going to LeatherHead's soon." It took a moment, but finally the turtle in blue's eyes fell upon the bowl of cereal the younger brother was enjoying. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm guessing that it was the one on the table."

"Maybe," Mike responded before eating another bite, slipping the spoon out between his tightly closed lips and causing a string of drool to extend between the two. "Want it?"

Leonardo looked dully at his brother before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "No, it's alright. I lost my appetite. Come on, Don. Let's get started. LeatherHead said he's already started looking for the keys without us."

Mike watched as the mention of the key lit up Don's eyes like fire crackers. He stood up quickly and nodded. "Right, let's get out of here. I'm sure it's at LeatherHead's. I've been thinking about it a lot, Leo. It has to be at LeatherHead's. I just know it. There's no other explanation."

"I'm sure they are," Leonardo responded somberly before nodding again to Mike and leading Don out the door.

The moment was strangely surreal, like one of Splinter's soap operas. But it was going to be okay, Mike kept reminding himself.

That day, after all, was a good day.

* * *

Sometimes good days were also _boring _days, apparently.

He could count all the "major" events that happened before two-thirty that afternoon on just one of his three fingered hands. They also happened to not involve him directly, something that truly bothered the turtle to his core for one reason or another.

He laid on the couch in silent discontent when he heard a loud growl and a slew of cursing.

In the dullness of laying flat on his shell on the couch, Mike had almost forgotten that the Lair could be amiss of noise outside of the occasional movement from Splinter's quarters. As such, the sudden clamor of what others would possibly describe as a wild boar nearly caused Mike to leap off the couch. Fortunately, his body was too stiff from laying in uncomfortable positions to jump too far into the air.

He instead looked toward the upper level and inadvertently the bedrooms which resided there. Then he could hear a crash of something and its subsequent breaking before the hissing of a familiar cat.

"ASS!" Raphael's voice boomed before Klunk came flying out of Don's bedroom door.

To suppress his explosive laughter, Michelangelo had to bite on his lip and just watch as Raph came stomping out. He was mad which, thankfully, was for once not aimed at the turtle in orange himself. The red-clad turtle instead was flaring and huffing over the orange cat which, in true prankster form, was sitting on the ledge just down the hall, as if to taunt poor Raph.

Apparently deciding that chasing the feline would not be in his best interest, Raphael instead turned his vision on his orangey brother and pointed a thick, accusing finger at him.

"Get a leash on your cat and keep it outta Don's room, Piss Ant!" he growled at Michelangelo. "He just about broke the computer screen because he was chasing a stupid spider. A spider! Why can't you train it to go after something worthwhile? Like a cockroach?"

"What's it matter which one he goes after?" Michelangelo questioned curiously. "You piss your pants if you see either of them, so just be glad Klunk's going after any at all."

"What'd'ju jus' say ta me!" Raphael roared before making fists and gritting his teeth. _"What'd'ju jus' say ta me!"_

Grinning, finally having found something worthwhile to do, Michelangelo leaned back on the couch. "Oh, you heard me, Raph. What're you going to do about it?"

"I'll beat your ass is what I'm going to do about it!" Raphael responded with a roar before leaping off the ledge and landing just twenty feet from Mike.

While such a feat was expected from highly trained ninja, Michelangelo was not being very perceptive that day. He let out a shrill scream before throwing a pillow at Raph's face and leaping up, his left foot on the back of the couch and his right dug into the sitting cushion. Two more pillows were in his hands.

"Don't mess with a master of Pill-Fu!" Mike warned with a grin.

"You're just pissin' me off _more_, Mike!" Raph growled before lunging, knocking Mike off the couch and onto the floor.

Covering his face and screaming, "Not my beautiful face!" Michelangelo eagerly awaited the continuation of the fight until the familiar sound of Splinter's doors opening caused them both to stop and look to their aggravated father.

Splinter narrowed his eyes. "I have heard enough," he said before pointing toward the door. "I am in deep meditation. I will ask you to leave for an hour's time only once. If you do not accept and do not contain your bountiful energies, then I will punish you. This, my sons, is my promise."

The two remained quiet before looking to each other and getting up. It did not take a second look from Splinter to convince them both to step outside.

* * *

To both Michelangelo's great relief and surprise, the fight and clobbering did not transpire outside the Lair either.

Instead, the two brothers had silently come to the agreement to walk along with one another through the familiar tunnels of their never ending sewers. The maze continued in a consistent pattern block after block, but each turn brought them to what only they could see as a new and exciting place.

Each passage was filled with memories, like ...

"Remember when I wrecked Don's bike here?" Mike asked with a lighthearted laugh. "He never let me ride it again. Then again, I guess we should've figured I was better with four wheels as opposed to two."

"Nah, you suck at four, too, but it's less likely for you to knock them over into an over sized blender," Raph elaborated with a smirk, tracing his fingers over the scratches in the brick wall. "Geezes, Mike. How'd you even manage that?"

The orange turtle could only laugh at the memory of it before shrugging. "Hell if I know. It was fun, though. Y'know, until the whole near-death thing," he sighed and looked to the hardened look on Raph's face. "You're going to have to get over that."

The red masked brother turned and glared at his brother. "Get rid of _what?" _he asked sharply.

"The whole scowling thing. I know it goes with your 'Me Against the World' thing, but it's really starting to wear on everybody's nerves," Mike explained. He then shrugged. "Well, more than usual anyway. I think everyone's just taking it as your irritation with Don."

"I _am_ irritated with him," Raph responded before looking off. "Sorta. It's just ... hard to explain. And I think I have permission to be pissed, Mike. He's just ... not himself anymore. And I just haven't been able to make anything of it just yet."

Mike rolled his eyes. "He just needs a little sympathy, Raph."

"I don't know what I'm sympathizing with," Raphael hissed. "And besides, you and everyone else seems to be aiding his sorry self enough with that. Maybe Don would get better if we just stopped acting like it was a big deal. Just acted like everything was fine and normal again."

"Ignore it?" Mike questioned before skeptically shaking his head. "I dunno, dude. I don't think it's something to be ignored."

Stopping, Raphael looked directly into Mike's eyes and suddenly Michelangelo felt a cold chill. It was suddenly deathly serious, no longer just two brothers venting. Mike swallowed and looked to his feet, sighing as he came to realize where they had subconsciously been walking.

"Why'd you take me here?" Raph demanded as he pointed to the signs of a tunnel collapse just around the corner. "This isn't funny, Mike."

"I didn't do it on purpose, you were walking the path, too!" Mike reminded him with extreme aggravation. "It's just kinda stuck in our heads, like instinctual to walk home."

Raphael shook his head angrily. "This isn't home anymore, it hasn't been for years," he reminded Michelangelo before turning and walking. "Any other time and I wouldn't care if we came here. But now-"

"Now it just makes you think of the mistake Don made," Mike frowned. "Raph, maybe Don did the same thing. Just ... wasn't thinking and got here. I mean, it's like I said, subconscious or something."

Raphael turned on his heels and shook his head. "You don't get it Mike. That would mean that Don isn't thinking."

Michelangelo frowned and shrugged. "What about it?"

"Don never stops thinking," Raph responded before turning back. "If he ain't thinkin', he ain't Donny. I'm goin' home."

He knew Raphael's aggravation was increasing as his words began to slur, but Mike had to continue the conversation. He quickly came up behind Raph and tapped on his shell. He continued to follow even when Raph ignored the tapping.

"Uh, earth to Raph, Master Splinter wanted us out of the Lair so he could meditate. He'll get angry at us if we go back," Mike reminded him.

"Hey, don't come back then," Raph snapped. "I'm not asking you to tag along. Besides, Splinter's done nothing but worry over Donny since this started. That's all anybody's done, take a note from me and just let Don sort through whatever's wrong on his own."

Mike frowned and allowed Raph to get a bit ahead of him before asking, "Then why was Raph in Donny's room earlier?"

* * *

Unlike the trip away from the Lair, the trip back home was silent and cold. Not even Mike attempted to break the silence until they were through the door.

Before either of them could see the others or before they could overhear a conversation, the mood already told them it was bad. Mike looked to Raph and Raph looked to him before they both neared the living room area where Splinter and Leonardo sat. Donatello was strangely absent from this equation, but they could sense that he was upstairs, perhaps in his room.

Mike blurted it out first as Leo and Splinter looked up to them.

"What is it? What did LeatherHead say?" Mike questioned.

Raphael's jaw was sternly shut and he simply stared at their father and older brother and their strangely reddened eyes.

Michelangelo waited a moment before biting his lip. He asked again. "What is it?"

Leonardo buried his face into his hands and tightly closed his eyes.

"It's cancer."

...

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